Attacked
by Shezzi
Summary: Parker's never late. Sometimes early, but never late. Still, Eliot is the only one who notices when she is. Eliot/Parker Hurt Comfort.
1. Chapter 1

A/N It has come to my attention that my story has been plagiarised an posted on another site by an…I hesitate to call her an author because I don't know if any of her so-called work is her own, I know she's been stealing from more than just me. I am taking steps to remedy this situation, but I wanted to warn the rest of you to watch out for her. Shezzi

A/N: Hey all, something new. Hope you like. In the vein of my most recent obsession, we have another Parker/Eliot hurt comfort (Parker Whump) fic. I don't own leverage, btw, just in case any of you are nuts enough to think I might. In answer to several requests, this will be a longer (multi-chapter) fic. Hope you like, please review! Love xx Shezzi

No one seemed to notice when she was a few minutes late, and Parker breathed a soft sigh of relief as she lowered herself carefully into her seat at the conference table. She knew that no one could see her injuries, and that as long as she didn't do anything stupid, no one should be able to notice them.

Eliot watched Parker come in, surprised that she had been late. She was always on time, if not early, for everything. As she had pointed out when Hardison called her on it once, a late thief tended to become a dead thief fairly fast. He watched now as she moved across the room, forcing himself not to frown as he noticed how stiffly she was moving, the slow way she lowered herself into the chair. They were the careful movements of someone trying to reduce core strain, but he didn't call her on it immediately because obviously she didn't want them to notice.

He was surprised that no one else commented on the blonde's decidedly out of character clothing. She had on a loose-fitting sweatshirt and cotton stretch sweatpants, her hair down and slightly lank looking. He's not deluded enough not to realize that he probably notices her more than anyone else on the team, his attraction and his nervousness about her unpredictable actions pretty much make that impossible, but he's still surprised that Sophie, in particular, hasn't commented on the little thief's wardrobe.

He realized that he had zoned on most of the briefing trying to figure out how badly she was hurt, and he tuned back in just in time to hear that he and Parker were actually staying in this time, this job calling for Hardison to go with Sophie and play/be the tech guy while Nate ran his own part, whatever that was. Neither the hitter nor the thief would be needed before nightfall unless things went seriously sideways.

They watched as the others left, Eliot promising to have something ready for dinner when they got back in, Parker making a garbled comment about luck and broken legs that he didn't even try to decipher. Once the others were out the door, he swiveled to look at her, frowning slightly at what he saw. She looked…blank. There was no emotion currently on her face, she was just staring at the wall, but in her eyes he could see pain.

Parker started to push herself up from the table, glad that no one had noticed, had called her on being hurt. She didn't want them to know, didn't want to give them the advantage over her. So when Eliot blocked her from getting out of her chair, she was startled. Startled, but not really surprised, because out of all the team, he's the one she'd expect to notice.

He's the one who watches all of them, who considers all of them under his protection, and she knows he probably watches her the most, she just isn't entirely sure why. She knows that she makes him nervous, and that he watches her because of that, but sometimes he gets this look in his eye, a look that she is both familiar and unfamiliar with, and she wishes she knew what it meant, wishes she could understand him the way Sophie or any other girl would be able to. She knows she likes him, but she doesn't think, or at least she's very unsure if, he likes her, even if his declarations of 'something is wrong with you' had taken on more of a playful tone lately.

Now, he's right in her face, his nose almost touching hers, and she freezes, waiting to see what he's going to do.

He's tossing up what he should do; give her the chance to tell him what's wrong, or just prove that something is and get on with dealing with it. He's a bit hurt that she didn't tell him and let him take care of her, but he understands the impulse not to, that instinct to crawl away and lick your wounds in private, to not expose your weakness. It's one that every one of them has.

"What's wrong, Parker?" he asked instead, watching her closely and seeing her consider what she's going to say.

He'll be mad. That's the first thing that pops into her head. He's going to yell at her for being stupid. And it was stupid, she knew better and could take better care of herself than this, or at least she used to be able to. She's starting to wonder if having other people to rely on is making her soft. She considers lying to him because she doesn't want him to get mad, but can tell just by looking at him that he's ready for that and he'll just be more upset by it.

"I'm fine," was the first thing that popped out of her mouth, not what she had been intending to say but there it was, her automatic response. Eliot just looked at her, raising one eyebrow. "It's not too bad, just a couple of ribs and some bruises," she insisted, wishing he would back off, his proximity making her decidedly uncomfortable now.

"Let me see," he ordered, moving back slightly to give her room to move.

"It's nothing, Eliot," she tried, looking at him in what she hoped was a pathetic way, anything to get him to leave her alone, to keep him from getting angry with her.

"I'll be the judge of that," he told her firmly, grabbing the zip on her loose fitting hoodie. He wasn't particularly surprised as he opened it to uncover her collarbones to find that she wasn't wearing anything under it; if she wasn't wearing her usual tight fitting tops there was a reason. He tugged it down the rest of the way and sucked in a deep breath, staring at the mottled bruises that were splashed vividly across the petite blonde's torso, his mind quickly reconstructing the basics of what must have happened for her to be bruised the way she was.

"Fuck, Parker, who did this to you?" He can't help the exclamation, but as soon as it's past his lips he knows it was the wrong thing to say. She shrinks in front of his eyes, pulling away from him, and tries to cover herself back up with her hoodie.

She'd known he'd get mad at her; how could he do anything else? She'd been stupid and gotten hurt. She shrank away from him, away from his anger. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, trying to close the hoodie, trying to get out from under his angry gaze.

"Darlin', darlin', no, I'm not angry at you," Eliot tried to reassure her, catching her hands gently in one of his and lifting her chin with the other to look her in the eye. "I am not angry with you," he repeated slowly.

Parker was confused. She'd known he was going to be angry, angry that she went out so late, angry that she let the guy get the drop on her, angry that she didn't get away in time, angry that she let him hurt her. His initial response, for all it scared her, had been what she was expecting, and now she was totally lost.

Eliot read the confusion on Parker's face, eight months of reading her emotions and thoughts making it easier than it had been in the beginning. "Darlin', I'm sorry I scared you. I'm not angry at you, I'm just worried. Can you tell me what happened?"

She swallowed hard, trying to moisten her throat before she began. "I…I was out of milk," she said softly, staring at the corner of the table blindly. "I was out of milk, so I went to the bodega. It was late, but…I wanted cereal. I was coming out and almost tripped over the newspapers that had been delivered while I was inside," she stopped for a moment, shaking her head.

"He came up behind me, I didn't hear him. I didn't hear him…" she swallowed again, forcing down the tears. "He grabbed me while I was off balance, shoved me into the alley. I was too slow and he was on me, hitting me. I finally managed to hit him and I got out of there. He was going to" she couldn't say the word, couldn't name what he was going to do to her. "Just because I wanted cereal."

Eliot breathed deeply, forcing his emotions down. It wasn't going to help her to see how upset what had happened made him. "Parker, darlin', will you let me take care of you? Please?"

Parker nodded slowly, and Eliot smiled. "Come on, let's get you onto my couch, I've got the kit in my office." Parker nodded and allowed him to help her up but shrugged his hands off and walked into his office under her own steam. She had made it all the way to work; she could make it into his office.

Eliot stopped in the kitchen to grab icepacks, towels and a bowl of warm water, because having looked more closely at her face he was fairly sure she was covering bruises there too. It was an expert job, but there was a slight puffiness to her left eye and cheek that bespoke an injury. He entered his office to find Parker curled in the corner of his couch, her face pressed against her legs as she hugged them tightly, her knuckles completely white beneath her skin.

He set the bowl, towels and icepacks down on his desk and crossed to the couch. He sat down just far enough away that he wasn't touching her, then reached out with one hand and stroked her hair. She flinched at his touch, then relaxed slightly into it, leaning her head against his palm but otherwise not moving.

Parker slipped into the office, struggling not to show how weak she was feeling. All he'd had to do was talk softly to her and she'd given in, given him the advantage over her. And it shouldn't matter because this was Eliot and he took care of all of them, but it did matter because she had given a man advantage over her, something she hadn't done in years. So she had curled up in the corner of his couch, making herself as small as possible, and waited to see what he was going to do about it.

She heard him come in and put something down on the desk before the couch sank slightly as he sat down, then a hand was touching her hair. One of his big hands, that she had seen cause so much damage, do so much violence, was gently stroking her hair. She froze, then forced herself to relax, reminding herself that this was Eliot, and that he took care of her, however much he might complain about having to do it. She leant into his touch, and when he tilted her head up, asking her to look at him, she didn't fight him.

"Parker, darlin', look at me," he ordered gently, resting his hand lightly on the side of her head. He tilted her face up carefully, seeing the puffiness surrounding her eye more clearly now as some of her makeup had worn off, the vivid colours of the bruises starting to show through. He had to admit that she was an expert at covering them up, and found himself wondering angrily just how much practice she had at it, and for how many years.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Eliot told her, then quickly qualified the statement. "Well, not on purpose, anyway." He paused and looked her in the eye. "Parker, you know I would never hurt you on purpose, right? Do you trust me?"

Did she trust him? It took all of Parker's self control, not that she really had all that much when it came to emotional responses, not to burst out laughing. She hadn't trusted a male in years. She didn't even really trust any members of her own sex, either, except maybe Sophie. But still, she found she wanted to say yes. "I…I trust you as much as I've ever trusted anyone," she settled on finally, looking at him from under lowered lids.

"Okay, darlin," he said gently. It was the most he had been hoping for; he knew none of them trusted easily and Parker…there was no doubt in his mind that Parker was the most damaged of all of them. "Let me look you over?"

Parker nodded slowly, unfolding out of the corner of the couch and letting Eliot help her move so that she sat with her legs stretched out in front of her, leaning against the armrest. Eliot knelt on the floor next to the couch and carefully slipped the hoodie completely off her, studying the bruising where it wrapped around to her back. Glancing up at her face to judge her reaction, he carefully placed one hand on her ribs and began carefully probing the bruised area. Parker winced, but there was no panic in the expression, so he kept going.

"I think you've cracked a couple, but they aren't broken," he reported a minute or so later. "Now, lets clean that cr…make up off your face and see how bad the damage is there, huh?"

"'s just a black eye," she told him, ducking her head slightly.

"Mmhmm…" Eliot said softly as he soaked a clothe in the bowl of warm water, then lifting her chin with one finger he began to clean away the makeup with gentle, smooth strokes.

She closed her eyes, allowing him to clean the makeup off completely, and sighed. "That feels good," she admitted softly, and he smiled at her.

"I'm glad, cos that shiner's a doozy," he told her, eyeing the bruising closely. He brought his hand up to her nose and squeezed it, nodding slightly when she flinched. "Not broken, though from the look of it it really should be. What did he do, slam you against a wall?"

"Yeah," she admitted softly. "I was already starting to twist around, copped it all on the left side. Dazed me a bit, let him get some hits in before I could pull myself together."

Eliot gritted his teeth at the description of the targeted blitz attack she had been subjected to. When he found this guy, he was going to regret being born, let alone taking so much as a finger to Eliot's gi…to Parker.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked her gently, and she shook her head. She was starting to shiver, though, so Eliot tugged the sage green mohair throw off the back of his couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Let me wrap your ribs and you can put your top back on," he told her.

"Thanks," Parker replied, smiling slightly, actually managing to keep her chin up and meet his eyes, which he took as a good sign. Eliot smiled tightly back at her, his mind already buzzing with ideas on how he might be able to track the guy down as he grabbed an elastic bandage and strapped her ribs firmly, taping it in place, then helped her back into her hoodie before grabbing the icepacks and arranging one on her ribs and the other on her face.

"I'll be right back," he told her softly, and she nodded, stretching out on the couch with the icepack covering one eye.

He made his way to the kitchen and paused. He clenched and unclenched his fist, putting all of his frustration and anger into the motion as he had learnt to, to center himself and keep himself on task. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and quickly filled it with cold water before making his way back into his office. He set the glass on his desk and dug quickly through the drug section of his kit, pulling out the pills he needed.

"Take these," he ordered her, holding out the pills.

"What are they?" she asked, uncertain, eyeing the pills as though they were going to bite her.

"Ibuprofen and codeine," he replied, rattling the pills in his hand. "Take them. They'll help. There isn't enough painkiller to make you muzzy, but it'll take the edge off. It's what I use when I need something but need to stay alert."

"But if the dosage is enough for you…"

"That's why you're only takin' two, Parker. Believe me, I have to take at least four of these for it to do anything, and I double you in body mass, easily. Two is the correct dosage."

Parker frowned and, taking the pills in her hand, sniffed them suspiciously before tossing them back and taking a mouthful of water. "Good girl. Now, have you had anything to eat today?"

She shook her head, and he sighed. "Come on, then. Lets get you settled in the lounge where I can keep an eye on you and I'll make you some breakfast." He helped her off the couch, but when she moved deliberately away, allowed her to walk in the lounge under her own steam.

She sat down on the couch, hugging a pillow, and watched Eliot as he moved into the kitchen.

Eliot moved into the kitchen, glad to have something to do to vent some of his anger. He decided on making her an omelet, one with plenty of vegetables that would need to be chopped. He knew it wasn't really Parker's idea of breakfast, but the girl needed a better diet…who ever head of eating a fortune cookie for breakfast?

He washed the vegetables, even knowing they were organic he wasn't taking any chances, and besides, they'd been in the fridge with Hardison's soda. Who knew what that did to 'em.

He glanced over at Parker, who was watching his movements through half lidded eyes.

"Don't you go fallin' asleep now, darlin," he ordered, pointing the tip of the knife he was holding at her. "I'm not goin' to all this work if you're just gonna fall asleep and not appreciate it." He realized that he hadn't checked her for a concussion, but if she was attacked around the time the papers were delivered, that made it three am or thereabouts, which put them past the six-hour mark anyway.

He finished chopping the vegetables, concentrating closely on each slice of the blade, putting as much of what he was feeling into it as possible. His anger, his rage at what had been done to her, his helplessness at not having been there to stop it, everything he couldn't let her guess he was feeling right now for her sake.

He set a pan on the stove to heat as he broke the eggs into a bowl, putting the onion into the pan as he whisked the eggs together, adding salt and pepper and a dash of milk before pouring them into the pan, grinning at the angry hiss it made.

He finished plating up the omelet, splitting it between two large plates, grating fresh cheese over the top, and poured two glasses of orange juice. He handed one glass to Parker, setting the plates down on the table, before heading back into the kitchen for cutlery.

He turned back to the lounge to find Parker already holding her plate, attempting to tear a piece of omelet off with her fingers, and flinching each time the hot egg burned them.

"Parker, stop," he ordered, shaking his head slightly. "I've got cutlery."

"But I was hungry," she whined at him. He rolled his eyes, but refrained from bringing out his overused catchphrase.

"And have you actually managed to do anything about that in the ten seconds it took me to get cutlery? Or did you just burn your fingers?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Parker just rolled her eyes at him and stretched a hand out to take a fork, wincing when she over extended, eyes fluttering closed momentarily as she forcibly slowed her breathing, getting herself back under control.

Eliot dropped down beside her, one hand going to her shoulder and rubbing gently, the other taking her plate to keep her from losing her breakfast as he watched her bring herself back under control. He sighed as he watched her clamp down on her expression once more; as much as he had been watching her, he didn't realize how much of what they saw of Parker was an act. Not the crazy; that was just her. But her lack of emotional affect, that was the act. She felt, she just didn't want people to have power over her by them knowing what she felt, and she didn't know how to deal with it herself.

Once she was back in control, he handed her her plate and fork before taking his own seat. "Eat," he ordered, pointing at her with his fork before digging into his own food.

For her part, Parker didn't require much encouragement. The food smelt amazing, the same as anything Eliot cooked, and she was suddenly starving. She hadn't eaten once she'd gotten back to her apartment, she'd showered, over and over until she ran out of hot water and beyond, scrubbing her skin until it was pink. She knew she'd rubbed a few spots on her legs raw, her skin crawling with past touches recalled to the present by her knowledge of her attacker's intentions. So now she plowed into the omelet with gusto, devouring half of it before pausing and taking a sip from her glass before she recommenced eating at a more sedate pace.

Eliot watched her eat, glad to see that however shaken up she was, some things didn't change. She was like a hoover on legs, and he honestly had no idea where she put everything she ate, but he'd learned to cook to compensate for it.

She was starting to fade now, he could see it. With the drugs, however mild they were, in her system and a warm meal in her stomach she was starting to relax. He saw the plate starting to slip from her grip, and reached over carefully and took it gently from her. He took the plates into the kitchen, putting them and his dishes in the sink, then returned to the lounge and tucked an afghan over the somnolent form of the little thief. He brushed a hand over her hair, fingers gently skirting the edge of the bruise, before he returned his attention to the washing up.

He still needed to talk to her, both about what they were going to tell the others, and the man who had attacked her. He needed to know who he was going to kill, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Eliot leaned back in the recliner, opening his book. He glanced over at Parker, smiling slightly as she snuggled her head down into the pillow he'd just slipped under it, then turned his attention to the latest chapter by the not-so-literary genius, Terry Pratchet. he didn't often read solely for pleasure, preferring to learn in the few instances when he had some down time, but the works of Terry Pratchet were his one weakness, not that he'd ever let Hardison know that. EVER.

It was maybe half an hour later when he was snapped out of his comedy-induced reverie by a soft moan from the couch. He looked up to find Parker shifting slightly under the afghan, whimpering. She bolted upright suddenly, screaming shrilly, and he was beside her in an instant, trying to calm her. He quickly found that trying was the operative word. She didn't respond to him at all, staring straight ahead as she cried out.

Her body was stiff under his hands as he tried in vain to get her to lie down, to look at him, to hear him, anything. Suddenly he felt her body start to relax, and he laid her back against the pillow. Moments later, she was asleep again, no sign that she had been screaming and crying moments before except the tear tracks on her cheeks.

Eliot sat back on his heels with a long, shuddering sigh, running one hand over his face and through his hair. It had been a long time since he'd witnessed a night, or sleep, terror, but they hadn't gotten any less horrifying over time. He wondered briefly if Parker would remember it when she woke; he knew for sure that she would be decidedly hoarse either way.

He knew that she may well sleep for hours yet, but couldn't quite bring himself to leave her side. Instead, he sat on the floor, back leaning against the front of the couch and started reading again.

Parker woke slowly, shifting slightly on the couch and grimacing as she felt how stiff her ribs were. She swallowed, and her throat burned painfully, causing her a moment of confusion before she remembered what happened. She hoped she hadn't freaked Eliot out too badly; she hadn't had a night terror in years. Deciding it was probably time to deal with any fall out from it, she opened her eyes, and found the hitter's face bare inches from her own as he stared at her, a worried frown darkening his gaze.

"I'm sorry," she croaked, feeling bad that she had caused him even more concern this day, after everything she had already done.

"You don't have to apologize," he told her, shaking his head quickly. "Wait, don't try to talk," he ordered as he grabbed a glass of water from the table and, helping her sit up, brought it to her lips and virtually poured about half of it down her throat.

Parker sucked down the water gratefully, feeling it sooth the dry, damaged tissues of her throat.

Once she had drunk about half the glass, Eliot set it back on the table, then turned concerned eyes to the blonde. "I'm takin' it that you remember what happened, then?" he asked, and she nodded, face paling slightly.

"It hasn't happened in a long time," she told him simply, avoiding his eyes as she spoke.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, darlin'," he told her gently, but she still wouldn't look at him. Eliot studied her face for a long moment, then nodded, allowing her to divert the conversation. "How much pain are you in?" he asked instead. "You're about due for some more meds."

"I'm sore," she admitted, shifting on the couch so she could stand up, intent on getting to the bathroom as another pressing need made itself known. "I gotta go," she told him, pushing herself upright and limping into the hall.

Eliot had a moment of fear when he thought she meant she was going to leave, but as he saw her heading not for the front door but for the bathroom, he calmed down and headed into his office to get her pills.

With them in hand, he sat down on the sofa and waited for her to join him.

Parker shuffled out of the bathroom, holding herself stiffly, and made her way back to the lounge, where Eliot was waiting, pills in hand and a firm expression on his face. As much as she wanted to refuse, not wanting the drugs in her system, she knew he wasn't going to allow her to not take care of herself, so she accepted the pills and the rest of her glass of water with as much grace as she could, swallowing them neatly as he watched.

He didn't say anything, and she was grateful, she had a feeling if she'd heard the words 'good girl' out of his mouth she might not have been able to keep from hitting him. She's not a damn dog, after all.

"Parker, we need to talk," Eliot said once the blonde was settled on the couch, curling into his side as he unconsciously raised his arm and draped it around her.

"What about?" she asked, snuggling into his warmth, enjoying the closeness and the way his body heat seemed to relax her muscles.

"First, what we're gonna tell the others, cos there's no way we're gonna be able to hide that shiner, and you're in no condition to be on the job."

"I'm fine for it," she objected. "It's not like anyone else can do my part."

"No, you're not, and Nate can just come up with a plan that doesn't use you this time, at least not in that capacity," Eliot replied, a quiet growl underlying his words. "Besides, do you want to explain to Sophie how you're just fine and good to go? Because even if Nate would let you, she won't."

Parker sighed but admitted defeat. "I…I don't want to tell them what happened. They'll want me to 'talk about it'," she rolled her eyes.

"I know, Parker. We just need to come up with a plausible story."

"I've got one, but it'll probably mean that Nate'll try to curtail my activities for a while…" Parker said slowly.

"What is it?"

"We tell them that I was practicing last night, testing a new harness, and it didn't quite perform up to standard. When it slipped, I cracked some ribs, hit myself against the side of the building, which is what bruised my face. Nate's not gonna let me practice alone for months, though…"

"Still, it's a good story. And I'll keep you company," he added, glad of the opportunity to volunteer to spend more time with her, something that six months ago he would have thought himself insane for.

"Okay," Parker replied. "So that's taken care of, and Nate'll work out the details for the job, so what's second?"

"I need to know if you saw the guy who did this to you," he said bluntly. "I need to know if you have a way of identifying him."

"Other than the fact that his balls are probably going to be bruised for at least another two weeks? I didn't really see him; white, average height, average weight, dark hair under a green baseball cap, his nose looked like it had been broken before and he had a small scar at the corner of his right eye, just a couple of centimeters long going down his cheek. Two or three days of stubble growth, brown eyes. Sorry, I really didn't get a good look at him."

Eliot blinked slowly, trying to assimilate the detailed description she had just given with the idea that she didn't think she had really seen the guy, then realized it was Parker and gave it up as a bad job.

"Parker, you did great," he assured her instead. "Trust me, you saw a lot more of that guy than you realized."

"I did?" she asked, surprised, then brushed it off, preferring not to think about it at all. "Is there anything to eat?" she asked instead, glancing around.

Eliot just smiled, shaking his head, and led the way into the kitchen. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to one of the stools at the bench, then proceeded to hunt through the fridge to see what they had on hand.

He was soon preparing an Asian stir-fry, Parker watching his knife move with fascination in her eyes and her hands folded firmly in her lap, remembering the last time he had cooked for her and the decidedly descriptive threat he had made if she so much as tried to filch anything off the board…or, more importantly, touch his knives.

Crossing to the freezer, Eliot grabbed an icepack and wrapped it in a clean dishcloth before he passed it to Parker. "Put that on your face for a while, try to keep the swelling down," he ordered.

Parker pressed it against her eye and nose, hissing slightly at the sting of the cold. Eliot gave her a sympathetic glance as he added the sliced onion to the wok, then turned his attention fully back to what he was doing.

"So, what you want to do here is slice the bamboo so that you get nice, square noodles," he told her as he sliced up the two inch long, moist pieces. "See?" he held one up for her inspection, and she nodded her understanding. "Then what you want to do…" he kept talking but her mind tuned out the meaning of his words, simply enjoying the timbre of his voice, the way it almost vibrated through her as he spoke.

Eliot watched Parker out of the corner of his eye as he stirred the contents of the wok and talked to her. From the expression on her face, he was fairly sure that she had stopped actually listening to him a good five minutes ago. He decided to test this theory, and without changing his tone smoothly switched his topic of conversation from the method for preparing his special sweet'n'sour stir-fry to something far closer to the young thief's heart.

"Then you put the money into the fire to make sure it's burning the right colour," he watched and Parker didn't so much as twitch. Chuckling, he leaned down next to her. "Penny for your thoughts," he said softly in her ear.

She jumped, making a little, startled squeak, and Eliot's humour immediately evaporated. "Sorry, darlin', I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't," she quickly denied, although the contraction of the pupil in the one eye he could see and the speed of her breathing easily revealed her lie.

Eliot just looked at her, then raised a hand and cupped her un-bruised cheek. "I did, and I'm sorry I did, alright?"

Parker was caught unaware by Eliot's action, but relaxed into his hand, enjoying the feeling of his rough calluses against her soft skin. She lowered the icepack in order to look at him properly, finding the view through only one eye unsatisfactory.

Eliot found himself staring at Parker from a distance of less than six inches, his hand on her face as her eyes burned into his. His eyes drifted lower, then he leaned in and pressed his lips gently to hers, pulling away after a moment to gauge her reaction.

Parker blinked in surprise, then a soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth before she leaned in and kissed him back. The kiss deepened until Parker pulled away with a pained hiss, one hand going to her jaw. "Sorry," she mumbled, picking the icepack back up and pressing it against her face.

"Nothin' to be sorry for, darlin'. We've got plenty of time," Eliot told her softly, being very, very careful not to let any of his emotions peek out, because he's fairly sure that his internal freak out will push her away if it becomes even slightly external, and for some reason he doesn't actually want to push her away.

He had just kissed Parker. HE HAD JUST KISSED PARKER. He knew he liked her, had known for some time, but he hadn't really been sure he wanted to act on it. Her brand of crazy was just a little too crazy for him, sometimes, and besides he wasn't really sure that she liked him; her reactions were too far outside of normal to judge. Well, he supposed she had kissed him back; that was something. Shaking his head slightly to try and reset his train of thought, he turned back to his stir-fry, which was in danger of burning, and went back to work.

Eliot just kissed her. And then she kissed him. That meant they both liked each other, right? She knew that she liked Eliot, but she really had convinced herself that there was no way he could like someone as 'wrong' as her. But he kissed her first, and when she couldn't keep kissing him, he told her that they had time. That meant he wanted more, didn't it? She wasn't sure simply because she had literally never done anything like this before. An actual relationship was a first for her. She wonders if her realizes that…probably not. She hoped she'd be able to figure it out. For now, she decided to just enjoy the moment, and went back to watching Eliot cook.

Eliot finished mixing the hokien noodles into the mixture in the wok, then grabbed a couple of bowls and scooped a generous serving into each. He set one in front of Parker as he took the stool beside her, handing her a pair of chopsticks. "Enjoy," he told her as he settled into his seat, his shoulder brushing against hers as he pulled it closer than he previously would have.

"Thanks," she said, offering him a small smile as she set aside the icepack and started filling the gaping hole in her belly.

They ate in companionable silence, and were about half done when they heard a key in the front door. Three pairs of footsteps and their teammate's distinctive voices floated back to them.

"Kitchen," called Eliot to let them know where to come, and Parker shifted slightly in her seat so that her back was no longer entirely to the door, so that she could see them as they came in. "How'd it go?" he asked as they came through the door.

"Went off without a hitch," Nate replied, focusing on a file folder in his hands.

"How was your…Parker, sweetie, what happened?" Sophie was beside the smaller woman in a heartbeat, lifting her chin to examine the bruising.

"Parker?" Hardison and Nate asked in unison, concern lacing their voices as they moved around Sophie to see what she was looking at. The hacker's exclamation of shock and the mastermind's horrified expression said it all.

"It's not that bad," Parker said, flinching away from Sophie's gently probing digits as the British grifter felt around the edges of the bruising in an attempt to determine how much damage had been done.

"There's no breaks, Sophie…not there, anyway. But she's got some cracked ribs," Eliot reported.

"What happened?" demanded Nate, his expression livid. "And why didn't you call us?"

"By the time I knew for sure she was hurt, you were already gone," Eliot told him plainly. "And as for what happened, she was testing a new harness last night, alone," he frowned slightly at the blonde, "and it didn't perform to the required standard."

"Twisted around and bashed me against the side of the building," supplied Parker. "Fortunately the building wasn't that high…I don't do tests on skyscrapers, so I had enough rope to get down to the ground." Eliot was mildly impressed with how well she was handling herself.

"I'm going to have to come up with a new plan," the mastermind said, frowning slightly. "I was actually thinking, with what we uncovered today we could just switch this one for a simpler job. I'll look into it. And Parker, no practicing alone anymore. What would have happened if you were knocked out or hurt to badly to lower yourself to the ground?"

Parker rolled her eyes but didn't object. She just barely kept herself from snorting; she hadn't suffered an equipment failure in over ten years of jumping off buildings, and had given up off-the-job testing until she joined up with the team and Nate had ordered her to test anything before she took it on a job.

"You were hurt when you came in here this morning," Hardison said slowly, staring at Parker. "But…I couldn't see…what is wrong with you? Why wouldn't you tell us that you were hurt?"

Eliot growled angrily at the accusatory tone in the hacker's voice. "Back off, Hardison," he ordered, stepping between Parker and the tall man. "Maybe you can't understand the urge to take care of yourself, but I'm pretty sure the rest of us can." The hacker scowled at him, then turned and left the room, muttering and throwing his hands in the air.

Sophie sighed, but nodded, and Nate grunted his agreement.

Deciding to deal with the social situation by the simple expedient of ignoring it, she turned her attention back to her half finished meal. Eliot barely kept from snorting at the rather typical reaction, then chose to follow suit.

"She's fine," he told Sophie when the grifter seemed determined to examine all of the blonde's injuries. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that as soon as she saw the bruises on Parker's torso, their story would be blown; anyone with the slightest knowledge of violence would know exactly what had caused the wounds. "There's stir-fry on the bench." So saying, he took his seat once more and resumed eating.

Glancing at Parker out of the corner of his eye, he took in the set of her jaw and the slightest mistiness in her eyes. He shifted slightly in his seat, bumping her shoulder gently with his, and smiled gently at her when she looked up at him. "Don't worry about him," he muttered into his noodles, but only the slightest dip of Parker's head told him his message had gotten through.

Parker finished her noodles and dumped her bowl in the sink before stopping and thinking for a minute. Hardison was in the lounge, and her office didn't have a couch…with no further thought required, she turned and limped into Eliot's office, curling up on the hitter's couch, cuddling a pillow with one end tucked under her head.

Eliot quickly added some water to her bowl before serving himself some more stir-fry and, leaving the others to whatever they were doing, entered his office and shut the door.

He wasn't good at the touchy-feely stuff; he knew that, but he was worried about how Hardison's idiot reaction had affected her. He sat in the leather chair at the end of the couch and looked down at Parker where she was curled tightly around his only cushion in a way he was sure could not be comfortable and therefore was most likely indicative of emotional pain.

"Parker," he started softly. She didn't respond, and with a sigh, he reached out and laid his hand lightly on her hair. "Parker, darlin', look at me," he ordered.

Parker snuffled, then raised her face out of the cushion. If her eyes and nose looked rather red, neither she nor Eliot felt the need to comment on it.

"He doesn't understand, Parker. We both know that Hardison saw the good side of the system, you didn't. Hardison has a criminal career that is based on not getting hurt simply because he isn't normally in harm's way. He doesn't understand wanting to crawl away and lick your own wounds, not letting anyone know you're hurt in case they use it to screw you over. Don't let him make you feel bad for following your own instincts, instincts that he was never forced to develop. Okay?"

Parker frowned in thought, then nodded slowly.

"Okay. Now, get your gear together, we're going home," he ordered.

"What?" asked Parker, confused by the sudden twist in the conversation.

"I want you to come back to my place tonight, Parker. I want to keep an eye on you, and I also want to know that you're somewhere safe when I…" he trailed off, not actually having intended to tall her that part.

"When you what?" asked Parker, for once displaying her aptitude for complete obliviousness.

"Nothin', darlin', it's not important," he quickly dismissed it. "Come on, get ready to go, my guest bedroom is much more comfortable than this couch. I'm gonna go tell Nate I'm takin' you home."

"You don't need to do that, I'll be fine at home," she objected, but he just shook his head.

"You're coming home with me, darlin', and there isn't anything you can say that will convince me to let you go back to your own place, although we can stop by and get some things if you don't want to sleep in my sweats."

"Fine," Parker agreed, but the small smile she gave Eliot belied the apparent annoyance of her response. She hadn't wanted to spend the night alone, knowing that she wouldn't be able to get any rest that way, but there was no way she was going to ask anyone to help her. Eliot had effectively solved both her problems for her. She was starting to think that he was good at that.

Eliot stalked into the lounge, scowling. He wanted nothing more than to rip Hardison a new one for what he'd said to Parker, but he knew that not knowing the true events of the previous night made it harder to understand why she hadn't told them, so he settled for glaring fiercely at the younger man before turning to Nate.

"I'm gonna take her home," he told their leader, who nodded.

"I actually think we can wrap this one up with just the three of us, but I'll keep you in the loop," he replied, waving him out. "Take care of her," he added as an afterthought, and Eliot nodded.

"Eliot," Sophie's voice stopped him. "I can take her. She might be more comfortable with me…"

"No, Sophie, you're a part of the con already. If Nate can pull it off without a hitter and a thief, he's still definitely going to need his grifter," Eliot pointed out, and Nate nodded his agreement. "We'll see you guys later." With another pointed glare at Hardison, Eliot left the room.

"Come on, darlin'," he smiled slightly at Parker, who was standing by the door with her small backpack hanging from her hand. They made their way down to the garage in companionable silence, and Eliot led the way over to his truck, avoiding Parker's attempts to get to her car by the simple expedient of keeping his own body between her and it and ignoring her clear yet unvoiced desire. "I'm gonna need you to tell me which way to go," he told her as he opened the passenger door and gave her a hand climbing in.

"Turn left," Parker directed him as they left the building. "Straight down here. Left at the lights, then take the fourth right. Straight until the end of the road, then turn left."

Eliot followed the directions, frowning at the area of town he ended up in. He hadn't realized that Parker had been living in this sort of neighbourhood; sure, it wasn't quite Washington Heights' levels of bad, but it was definitely Harlem, if you were using New Yorker terms and when exactly had he started doing that?

"Just in here," Parker pointed to a building that was slightly less dilapidated than the buildings around it.

"You live here?" he growled, and Parker shrugged, wincing when the action pulled on her ribs.

"What's wrong with it? It's got four walls and a roof."

Eliot couldn't quite think what to say to that, so followed Parker inside and up the stairs, and up the stairs, and up the stairs. They finally stopped at the top floor, Eliot completely bewildered as to how his…he didn't even know what word to use to describe her right now, had gotten back up to her apartment the night before, or how she had gotten out this morning. He waited as she set to work opening her door, which took a surprisingly lengthy period of time.

"Come on in," she invited two minutes later as the door swung open and she made her way into the apartment. Eliot entered, pushing the door closed behind him and looked around, not entirely sure what to expect.

It was nothing like as bad as its exterior had made him believe. The floors were wooden, a few scrapes here and there but nothing too bad, and Parker had thrown down a couple of decidedly authentic Persian rugs. There wasn't much furniture, and the walls were bare except for one painting, one that he recognized as having hung in the Monaco museum until just before their second job together as a team.

The place was decidedly Spartan and very clean, except for the trail of torn, dirty clothing that started halfway through the 'kitchen' area and continued to a partially open door. He swallowed hard as he realized what he was looking at. Parker didn't meet his eyes when he looked at her, instead squaring her shoulders and heading straight for the door. Eliot followed behind, kicking the clothes in front of him to form a pile that he could dispose of more easily.

He followed her through and into her bedroom, which was equal parts freakishly neat and orderly and totally trashed. The bed was made, not to military standards but it was neat, and the sky blue comforter matched nicely with the dark blue paint on the walls, a job he was guessing that Parker did, or had done, herself. The remainder of Parker's clothes were scattered with a large circle as though the thief had been ripping them off her body and throwing them wherever she could, which he thought was probably accurate, and there were several large, fluffy, still damp towels mixed in with them.

Parker set about grabbing some clothes, her stiffness and choppy movements clearly indicating her distress to anyone who knew her well enough to look. Eliot moved quietly around her and collected everything on the floor, having already decided that everything would go. If there had been anything even remotely special looking in the pile, he would have asked Parker, but it was just a basic outfit. He stuck his head in her bathroom, but found that other than being on the damp side there was nothing amiss in there.

"You got any rubbish bags?" he asked as Parker shoved some pants in a duffle bag.

"Under the sink," she replied without looking at what he was doing, although he knew she knew. He made his way back out of her bedroom and added what he'd collected in there to his pile, then grabbed a rubbish back and scooped it all up, tying it off just as Parker emerged, the duffle trailing behind her on the floor. Eliot took it without asking and, lifting the rubbish bag, turned back towards the front door and took it in for the first time in all its glory.

He suddenly understood why Parker would choose to live in a building like this one. The apartment wasn't as bad as you would believe from the outside, but it also wouldn't be inspected until after she moved out, meaning her rather extreme modifications to what had originally been a fairly flimsy barrier would go unnoticed.

She had attached a, he twisted his head slightly to get the right perspective to gauge the thickness, 1.5cm thick steel plate the inside of the door. With several large deadbolts that he knew were more or less unpickable, not that they were accessible from the outside at all. And at the top, middle, and bottom of the door were large hooks that allowed for the three enormous ironwood bars to drop in and prevent it from being opened by brute force, as they would extend beyond the door for a good foot on either side. What struck him was that all of this was security for when Parker was INSIDE the apartment. She had decent locks on the outside, but someone could still potentially get in when the interior locks weren't engaged.

"Tell me you have other exits," he demanded, and Parker shot him a look that said he was a moron.

"Out the window, down the pipe, or up onto the roof, or up into the roof through the bathroom, and a couple of others," she informed him. "Let's get out of here." The glance she made around the room made Eliot wonder if she would come back to this apartment at all, at least to do more than move out.

"Your wish, darlin'," he replied, ushering her out the door. She quickly locked it behind them, then followed him back down the stairs. He tossed her duffle in the back seat of his truck, then dumped the garbage bag in the nearby dumpster before climbing back into the cab. "Lets go home."


	3. Chapter 3

Eliot showed Parker through the door of his home, smiling slightly as she looked around, wide-eyed.

Whatever Parker had imagined for Eliot's home, this wasn't it. This was warm and inviting with old fashioned cut stone walls. But more than that, it was actually a HOUSE, and he owned it outright.

She had been surprised when Eliot took them out of the city-city into one of the older, more spread out suburbs, but hadn't said anything. When Eliot pulled up to a fenced property with a large garden, she had raised an eyebrow and followed him into the medium sized brick house.

"Welcome to my home, darlin'," Eliot told her as he grinned smugly at her expression. "Guest bedroom's just down the hall on the right, got an ensuite bathroom," he told her, even as he lead the way and set her duffle and mini backpack on a chair on one side of the room. "I'm gonna work out for a while, feel free to make yourself at home. Take a nap or watch some TV, there're books on the shelves in the living room and there's fruit and drinks in the fridge, but no alcohol for you at the moment."

Parker nodded and Eliot left her there in order to go and satisfy his intense need to go and hit something.

Parker contemplated the bed, but didn't really feel like inviting her nightmares out to play just yet, so turned and started exploring Eliot's house. She found herself in what could only be the living room almost immediately, and grinned. Everything in there was so Eliot. There was a massive wood fireplace in the wall opposite the door, a grate with some ash scattered beneath it proving that it was still very much in use. The armchairs and couch were overstuffed brown leather affairs with plaid afghans thrown over their backs and there were several dark stained bookshelves against he wall, running completely around a large screen TV. There was a heavy, dark stained wooden coffee table in front of the couch that matched the shelves, but the real thing that marked this as Eliot's space was the fact that half of the big room was kitchen. A long wooden bench with copper and steel pots and trays hanging above it ran parallel to the back of the couch, and a huge (she was fairly sure it was actually industrial) stove/oven combo took up the side wall between the bench and the back of the room. A wrack of utensils covered the entire back wall, reminding her of the weapons walls you could sometimes find in the traditional style dojos.

She went to the fridge to see what her options were. There was beer, but not as much as some might have expected, and all from different local micro-breweries. There were bottles of fresh-squeezed organic fruit juice from a local orchard, and she grabbed one of those before heading to the couch. Opening her juice, she set it on the floor where she could reach it, then grabbed the afghan, a pillow and the TV remote before curling up on the couch.

She switched on the TV, unsurprised to find it tuned into a sports channel, and started surfing. She settled soon enough on some science show with the American military and a big stone ring.

She sipped her juice, enjoying the scent of Eliot that surrounded her here; the leather and wood-smoke and just a hint of his sweat on the cushion all telling her that she was safe here, that this was his place and no one could hurt her here. She laughed at the ridiculous situation portrayed by the show, where an invisible alien was wreaking less damage while being untraceable than she could while being seen.

Soon, her eyes were growing heavy as the warmth and the feeling of safety began to relax her body once more. She had the presence of mind to make sure her juice was closed and safely on the floor before she fell asleep, because she remembered how long and loudly Eliot bitched at Hardison about spilling stuff around the office.

Eliot wiped the sweat off his face with a towel as he came into the living room. Parker was curled up on the couch, watching some ridiculous looking program on the sci-fi channel. At least he thought she was until he moved slightly closer and saw that her eyes were closed. He smiled softly as he slipped up beside her, pulling the afghan gently up around her shoulders and, taking the remote from where it was still loosely clasped in her hand, turning off the TV. He picked up her juice and returned it to the fridge, then went to take a shower.

He was back in the kitchen fifteen minutes later, marinating lamb chops with lemon, rosemary and garlic and putting them back in the fridge to sit for a couple of hours, before joining Parker in the actual lounge area and decided to watch the game.

He knew when Parker started to wake up a couple of hours later, hearing her make that little, distinctive snuffling sound he'd now heard from her several times before but only really identified earlier that day. Her eyes fluttered open a moment later, and he could see the exact moment she remembered where she was.

"Hey there, sleepin' beauty. Have a nice nap?"

Parker smiled slightly in response, one of the least crazy smiles he'd ever seen grace her face, and pushed herself slowly upright, one hand immediately going to try and straighten her hair. "Who's winning?" she asked, glancing up at the game.

"Dolphins," he replied, glancing up at the screen. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she replied, glancing down to find that her juice wasn't where she'd left it.

"Fridge," directed Eliot, seeing where she was looking, and she limped over to retrieve it, leaving the afghan crumpled on the sofa.

"How long was I out?" she asked as she grabbed her half-finished juice and an apple before making her way back to the lounge.

"A couple of hours," he replied, eyeing her closely. She didn't look like she was in too much pain, so he left it alone; he'd be serving dinner in about an hour and would make her take something then.

"Can I see the rest?" she asked, glancing around the room, and Eliot was surprised she was actually asking. In the office, she had sorted through everything in each of their desks, bookshelves, and in Eliot's case, found the various weapons he'd stashed away here and there.

"I'll give you the grand tour," he told her with a grin. He gave her a hand off the couch and slipped his arm around her waist, not to support her, just to hold her close, and she dropped her head on his shoulder.

He quickly showed her through the rest of the house, which other than his bedroom, was really just the gym. He then led her outside, where he showed her around his garden, which was much more extensive than his house.

"You grow all your own food?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I get my meat from a local organic farmer, who also lets me take his horses out when I'm around, and I pay one of the neighbour's kids to water for me if he sees I haven't been home in a couple of days."

"It's nice," Parker commented, looking around. "How long has it been yours?"

"I bought it just after the first job. The original owner was too old to take care of it anymore and has gone to live with her daughter in town. I drop vegetables off to them whenever I can, it was part of our deal."

"How do you get out here everyday? I mean, it's not exactly close to the offices," Parker asked, looking around at the lush garden.

"I don't, not every day. When we're on a case, I have an apartment in the city where I stay; this is where I come when I want to relax, to take a break. I thought it would be nice for you to get out of the city." He didn't add that he wanted to be sure that she was somewhere truly safe tonight, when he went to take care of business.

"Thank you," Parker said softly, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. He turned his head and claimed her lips for a long moment, being careful not to kiss her too hard, then pulled back.

"Come on then, darlin', it's time for dinner." He brought her back into the house, sat her at the bench and set a board and knife in front of her. "I'll wash the potatoes, then you can chop them up," he told her, pulling a hessian sack from the bottom of his pantry and tipping half a dozen potatoes into the sink.

He set them, one at a time, on her board, directing her to chop them into small pieces, then started crushing garlic and rosemary together. Soon, the potatoes were in the oven and he was preparing asparagus spears to cook once the chops were done.

Once the potatoes were done, Parker moved back over to the couch, unable to deny her exhaustion even though she was sure that she had slept more in the last day than she normally did in a week. She lay down, but refused to close her eyes, instead attempting to grab the remote from Eliot's chair. She stretched, ignoring the pain in her ribs, and just got a finger on the remote when Eliot spotted her.

"Dammit, Parker, are you trying to hurt yourself worse?" he demanded, storming over and grabbing the remote, shoving it at her.

"I would'a gotten it," she pouted, refusing to shrink back from his angry gaze, as much as she wanted to.

"You need to take better care of yourself," Eliot grumbled, heading back into the kitchen. Parker stuck her tongue out at his back, then set about channel surfing for something actually worth watching. Eliot just shook his head and concentrated on making their dinner while he plotted.

He'd decided that the best idea was to be at the bodega at the same time Parker had been. He'd seen the corner store when he'd taken her to her apartment, so locating it wouldn't be a problem, and he could question the night clerk at the same time. He just had to get Parker settled first and be sure that she wasn't waking up – he didn't want her finding herself alone in a strange house at the moment.

He served the food, squeezing fresh lemon juice over the peppery buttered asparagus and sprinkling balsamic vinegar on the potatoes. He set the plates on the table with glasses of fruit juice, then grabbed a couple of tablets from the bottle in his coat pocket and put them next to Parker's juice.

"Parker," he called, glancing over at the little bit of blond hair he can see at the end of his leather couch. "Dinner's ready."

Parker pushed herself upright, her head spinning slightly as she sat up too fast, then made her way slowly to the table. Eliot pulled her chair out for her, then pushed it in once she was seated, earning himself an upside down version of Parker's 'what on earth do you think you are doing, you strange, strange man' look as she strained her head over backwards to stare at him. Eliot just grinned and pressed a soft kiss to the unbruised side of her forehead before taking his seat.

"Dig in," he told her, picking up his own cutlery and starting on his meal. "Oh and take those," he ordered, pointing to the tablets beside her glass, "before you eat too much. Give them time to absorb."

Parker grumbled incoherently but tossed the tablets back before turning her attention to the rather delicious smelling food on her plate.

Once the dishes were stacked in the sink to be dealt with later, Eliot tugged Parker down on the couch and she curled up on the cushions, pillowing her head against his thigh. Eliot stroked her hair gently as he started flicking through channels, looking for something worth watching.

"Oh, oh, stop! Go back!" demanded Parker suddenly. Eliot obediently flipped back, and grinned, unable to believe he'd actually gone past it in the first place. "M*A*S*H* it is, then," he declared, relaxing back and preparing to enjoy a few hours of the greatest comedy show ever made.

Parker pushed her head into Eliot's gently massaging fingertips, enjoying the sensation as they stroked and rubbed her scalp. They laughed together at the exploits of Hawkeye and Trapper John, Parker every so often stopping with a wince and a hand to her ribs.

Parker found herself drifting halfway through the second episode, snuggling closer to Eliot's warmth and pulling the afghan closer around her. Eliot stretched out one foot and snagged the one off his recliner, tucking it around her. She mumbled her thanks as her eyes slipped shut, one hand slipping out and grabbing Eliot's, twining their fingers together before she dropped off.

Eliot waited until he was sure she was deeply asleep, until the end of the next episode, before he risked moving her. He scooped her up carefully, blankets and all, and carried her down to her bedroom and managed to pull the quilt on the bed aside without setting her down, then laid her carefully on the bed and pulled the quilt back up around her.

"Sleep well, darlin," he whispered, kissing her softly on the cheek before exiting the room, leaving the door cracked and the hall light on so that if she woke she wouldn't be too disoriented.

He went back to the living room for now, not wanting to leave too early, and settled back to watch TV, keeping the volume low so as not to disturb Parker and to enable him to hear any noise she might make.

EPEPEPEPEP

Several hours later he slipped down the hall on silent feet and swiftly changed his clothes, then slipped back, boots in hand. He stopped at the table and, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from beside his phone, scribbled a quick note (saying he'd gone to get some things for breakfast) on the off chance that she woke while he was gone; she hadn't yet, and when he looked in on her she didn't appear to have moved at all, so he hoped that her sleep continued to be restful.

He was in his truck and on his way back into the city by two am, wanting to be at the bodega before the paper delivery. He parked his truck a couple of blocks away and walked to the small store. He stopped outside for a couple of minutes, standing in the shadows and looking through the glass, then entered.

The clerk didn't look up when he entered, seeming determined to concentrate on the books in front of her.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said softly, laying on the Southern charm as thickly as he could, "I was wonderin' if you were workin' last night." She looked up at him, and Eliot forced himself not to gasp audibly when she looked at him; the four ragged scars that ran from her hairline to her chin stood out lividly against her pale skin, leaving him with little doubt that she manned the store at night to avoid gawpers.

"I work every night. Why?" she asked, looking back up at him, her eyes wary.

"A friend of mine came in here about this time last night, and she was attacked on her way back to her apartment. I was wonderin' if you'd seen anything," he explained softly, smiling gently.

"What does she look like?" she asked, eyes still wary.

"She's tiny," he held up a hand to indicate Parker's height. "Blonde hair, kinda crazy…"

"Parker? Is she alright?" demanded the girl, sitting up straight and now eyeing Eliot much more carefully.

"She's a bit roughed up, but she'll be alright. I'm takin' it you didn't see anyone, then?"

"No, she was the only customer I had for over an hour," the girl told him. Now that he could really look at her, he realized he'd overestimated in the age department; if the girl was over twenty he'd eat his bandana.

"She said he was white, average height, average weight, dark hair under a green baseball cap, brown eyes. Couple of days worth of stubble, his nose looked like it had been broken before and a small scar at the corner of his right eye, just a couple of centimetres long going down his cheek."

The girl started to shake her head, then paused. "There's a guy…he's never come in, but I see him go past sometimes. Something about him always made my skin crawl and I didn't know why. He wears a green baseball cap, but…" she shrugged, and Eliot nodded.

"Thanks," he glanced down at the books spread on the counter. "Arabic?" he asked in surprise, and she nodded, smiling shyly. "Difficult language."

"The grammar sucks," she declared, "but as far as writing goes, it's not as bad as Chinese." Eliot thought about that for half a second then nodded his agreement.

"Well, thank you, darlin'," he smiled more fully at the girl, who blushed under his gaze, ducking her head. "I'll tell Parker you were askin' after her…"

"Kimmy," the girl told him. "Tell her I want to see her butt in here no later than 11pm from now on, too. As nice as it might be to have the company, women need to take better care of themselves than she seems to."

"And what about you?" asked Eliot gently.

"Ain't much left that the world can take from me except my right to keep breathin'," the girl told him straight up, her accent thickening. "Don't worry about me, man. I'm good." She hefted a large baseball bat from behind the counter. "I don't come out from behind the counter once I'm alone in the store; got a bathroom back here and all. Anyone wants me, they gotta come to me."

"Okay, then, Kimmy. You take care of yourself, and I'll see you around."

"You're Eliot, right? She mentioned you," the girl's smile was soft now. "It's good to know she has someone who cares." Eliot just nodded once more, then slipped back out of the store. He settled himself on the corner, waiting for the paper delivery.

He was always surprised by the number of people out and about in the wee hours; not just people on the wrong side of the law, either. A black van pulled up outside the bodega, and a guy wearing a sports jacket and beanie jumped out and pulled the newspapers out of the back, dumping them outside and moving to go back to his truck. Eliot moved closer and got a look at the guy's face, relaxing instantly; Hispanic, face seamed with age, but no scars.

Half an hour later he was almost ready to give up when a guy came around the far corner of Parker's building, looking around furtively. He had a baseball cap and a long coat on. Frowning slightly, Eliot started towards him as he moved towards the door of Parker's building.

He caught up with him just as he reached for the door, one hand on his shoulder as he yanked him around. One glimpse of his face was all it took to tell him this was his guy, which was fortunate because he was too busy blocking the guy's fast but inept knife thrust to get a longer one.

However he felt, he hadn't planned on killing the guy. Beat him to a pulp and make him incapable of ever doing what he'd done to Parker ever again, yeah, but killing him wasn't on the agenda, mostly because homicide investigations were a bitch.

With that in mind, he swiftly disarmed the man, then hit him with a quick jab to the gut that gave him the upper hand and allowed him to drag him off the steps of his girl's building and into an alleyway. The alleyway where this monster had attacked his thief. The growl rumbled out of his chest as he glared down at the man.

"Hitting women makes you feel like a big man?" he demanded, dragging the man up by his collar.

"The bitch had it coming! Teasing and flirting, showing off her body. She asked for it," the man snarled.

Eliot's vision washed red as he remembered Parker, curled up on his couch, and his foot lashed out, kicking the guy in the gut. Everything kind of blurred for him after that, and the next thing he really knew, he was standing over a quivering ball of what could barely be called humanity.

"You will never touch her, or any other woman, again, or I will know," he told him, crouching down to get in his face as he whimpered and tried to crawl away, one handed. "I will know, and I will come back and finish what I started. Understand?" He reached into the creep's pocket and pulled out his wallet, taking his ID. He'd find some excuse to get Hardison to set up tracking on the guy. He threw the wallet back down and turned to go, wanting to get home to Parker. Wanting to get home to his girl.

EPEPEPEPEP

Parker was running, as fast as her legs could carry her. Her breath burned in her lungs, but she could still hear him behind her; his heavy breathing and footfalls showing that he was no further away than before.

Knowing that it was useless, she still ran on. There was no escape from him, there never was, but still she ran, because this might be the time…her foot caught on something and she fell. He was on her in moments, his fetid breath hot against her neck, and then the pain began, and all she could do was scream.

EPEPEPEPEP

Eliot heard the screams as soon as he opened the door, and was down the hallway shoving the door closed behind him. He scanned the room quickly, checking for real threats even as he crossed to the bed to comfort Parker.

Finding none, he concentrated on the tiny blonde, who was thrashing in her sleep, scream after scream ripping from her throat. He slipped an arm around her shoulders to lift her, and found himself dodging a fist thrown at his face as her eyes snapped open, still fear filled and sleep clouded. One hand caught both of hers and held them gently but firmly against her chest, while the other cupped her head and tucked it under his own. "Parker! Parker, darlin', wake up. It's me, it's Eliot, you're safe. Wake up, darlin', come on back. There's no one here to hurt you, you're safe, I've got you. I'm sorry I left, I'm sorry. Just calm down, sweet heart, you're safe." He felt the tension drain out of her bit by bit until she was slumped against him, body still shaken by the occasional convulsive sob.

He released his grip on her hands, rubbing them instead as his other hand stroked her hair. He craned his neck back to look her in the face and was met with eyes that were bluer than he'd ever seen them, and swimming in tears.

"I'm sorry, darlin'," he whispered.

Parker was confused; why was Eliot apologising? It wasn't like he gave her the nightmares; he was the first person to ever be there to wake her up and care about them at all, so why was he sorry? Pushing the confusing thoughts away, she burrowed her head closer to him, one hand fisting in his t-shirt as she breathed in the smell of his cologne. Eliot wrapped his arms firmly around her, holding her close, and started to rock gently from side to side, humming softly.

Parker felt herself starting to drift off again, safe in Eliot's embrace, and she turned her face up to his. "Nothing to be sorry for," she whispered, even though she still didn't understand why he was apologising, and pressed her lips against his for a moment before curling into his chest where she could hear his heartbeat.

Eliot found himself starting to drop off, and shifted carefully on the bed, not wanting to displace Parker but wanting to lie down himself. He ended up on his back with Parker mostly beside him, her upper body curled over his chest. He smiled down at the top of her head before pulling the quilt up around her shoulders, then lay back against the pillows and allowed himself to drop off, holding her close.


	4. Chapter 4

Eliot woke, his eyes snapping open in a sudden movement before he remembered the goings on of the night before and relaxed. Parker was still curled against his chest, snuffling softly in her sleep, and he looked down at her. She was so relaxed, so innocent-looking, no sign of the monsters that had held her prisoner within her own head only hours before.

He wanted to know what had given her those nightmares, although knowing what he did about the foster care system he could make some educated guesses. He wanted to find the people who had given them to her and make them suffer. He could wait, though. He would wait for as long as it took, even if she never actually told him. He would wait and make sure that no one ever did anything like that to her ever again. It was like waiting for a nervous yearling to come to you as you stood quietly in the yard, waiting for its natural curiosity to overcome its fear. He had a lot of practice at waiting.

With that decision made, he settled in to enjoy his current position. Parker's head was a warm weight against his chest, her jasmine scented hair brushing against his chin as her head rose and fell with his own breaths. He carefully, not wanting to disturb her, wrapped his arm around her, his hand stroking her back gently.

EPEPEPEPEPEP

Parker woke to an odd assortment of feelings. On one level, she was relaxed and more comfortable than she could ever remember feeling; curled on Eliot's chest, his heart beating in her ear while his hand stroked her hair. On another level, she was completely terrified. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that something was going to ruin this. Something always did; she never got to be happy for long, she didn't deserve it. So she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, or swing and hit her in the ribs, whichever.

Nothing good had ever come from her really trusting someone. In the system, the one or two good homes, truly good homes, she had ended up in she'd been taken out of in short order with no real explanation, and the bad homes…she didn't think about the bad homes. And every time, every time she thought she'd actually found someone she could trust, who actually cared about her, they either got taken away or screwed her over. Painfully.

The last, and overriding feeling she had, was pain. She hurt all over, even more than she had the day before. It was that which forced her eyes open before she could even think about trying to sort out her messed up feelings. She turned her head to look at Eliot, wincing as her neck complained at the movement.

"You alright, Parker?" asked Eliot softly, seeing her wince.

"Just stiff," she replied, trying, and failing, to move off his chest. "And sore."

"Okay, darlin'. Here," he carefully slid her off him and laid her fully on the bed. "You just wait there for a second, I'll get you something and run you a bath; that should help with the stiffness." He left the room quickly, returning in moments with a couple of tablets and a bottle of water. "Now, to be fair I should tell you that these are a bit stronger than the ones I gave you yesterday, but you look like you need them. Okay?" He wasn't entirely sure why he was telling her, the tablets were a good deal stronger than what she'd been taking the day before but looked exactly the same, so he could have passed them off, but something told him he needed to let her know.

Parker considered for a moment, frowning slightly. They were stronger, and therefore would effect her more strongly, putting her more deeply into his control and forcing her to rely on and trust him more, but if he wanted to hurt her, he could have just not told her that they were different ones, and once she'd taken them and they started to effect her he would have had her where he wanted her. After several moments thought, she nodded and took the tablets from him, tossing them back with a mouthful of water.

"You rest there, and see if you can't get the rest of that bottle in ya, you're probably more than a bit dehydrated, and I'll run you a bath," he told her, smiling. Parker had to smile at that; a bath sounded absolutely heavenly at the moment. Eliot grinned at her expression, then headed into her bathroom to start the water running. He was careful to run it warm but not too hot; he wanted her to relax, but not to faint from the heat when she got out again.

Once the tub was about half full, he left the bathroom and found Parker now sitting on the edge of the bed. "You need a hand to get in there?" he asked. She shook her head, her expression determined, and pushed off the bed, only to stumble forward and nearly face plant on the floor. "Sure ya don't, Parker," Eliot said as he caught her, grasping her forearms as he helped her to stand straight. "Sure ya don't. I'll just get you in there, then I'll leave you to it, alright?" He shifted so he could wrap an arm around her waist, supporting her that way as Parker nodded slowly, biting her lip and watching him out of the corner of her eye in a way that worried him. It was like she thought he was going to do something to her, and it made him uncomfortable, nervous, and perversely angry, but not at her.

He walked her into the bathroom and helped her to sit on the closed toilet lid, then shut off the water. "There's soap and shampoo," he gestured to the bottles beside the tub. "Need me to take off the strapping for you?"

"No, I've got it," Parker told him. "I've taken care of myself before, Eliot. Off you go." She flapped a hand at him without extending her arm, which didn't feel like it had the same emphasis but she just couldn't seem to convince herself that it wasn't going to hurt like hell to do it the other way. Once he was out the door, she undid the zip of her hoodie and let it slip down her arms, then turned her attention to the bandaging around her torso. She fumbled to release the tape, but once it was undone, was able to remove the bandages themselves with a minimum of effort on her part, just nudging them when then stopped falling away. She slipped her pants off her hips and down her legs, being careful not to lean too far forward, and pushing them off with her feet when they reached the floor.

She then turned her attention to the tub. She levered herself upright by dint of holding onto the edge of the cabinet, finding that she was still stiff enough to need the support that had been unnecessary the day before. She did get into the tub without too much difficulty, and relaxed back against the gently sloped side, enjoying the warmth of the water as it started seeping into her muscles, relaxing her.

EPEPEPEPEPEP

Eliot left the bedroom, knowing that Parker would be alright in the bathroom. She wasn't that badly off, she was just stiff and sore from sleep and her injuries, and the bath and drugs would help with that.

He made his way to the kitchen, and pulled out bowls, cereal, milk and juice, setting them on the table, then grabbed his phone. It was after nine already, and the others would be waiting to hear from him, in fact he was surprised that they hadn't rung already.

He dialed Nate's number from memory and waited as the phone rang. It was answered on the second ring by Sophie. "Eliot? How's Parker?"

"Good morning to you too, Sophie. She's alright, sore but alright. She just woke up, she's having a bath right now. How are things on your end?"

"Fine, Nate's got it all under control," Sophie told him calmly. "Eliot, what really happened to Parker?" she asked softly, and Eliot froze. "I know she's too careful with her equipment, she never has accidents, she's too smart for that. So what really happened?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sophie," Eliot told her, deciding to go the simple route of denial. The grifter could always try taking it up with Parker, and his thief could tell her whatever she wanted, but until she heard it from the blond he was going to stick with the party line. "Keep us updated on how things are going, huh? I don't think Parker's really in any fit state to come in today, so we're gonna stay out here. Talk to you later." He hung up without waiting for a reply, not wanting to give the grifter time to rally on him. He was fairly sure from her tone of voice that she hadn't shared her suspicions with Nate or Hardison (yet) and hoped she would continue to demonstrate that admirable restraint.

He quickly checked the table, and grabbed out spoons. He thought about it and put the milk back in the fridge, before making his way back to the guest room and tapping on the bathroom door. "Parker? You alright in there, darlin'?" he called.

"Hunky-dory," Parker sang back at him, and he grinned. She was clearly feeling better.

"No rush. Breakfast is ready whenever you are. I'll put some clothes just outside the door for you. And call me if you need me, okay?"

"Fine," he could hear the sufferance in her response, and chuckled softly at it even as he opened her duffle and pulled out some clean sweats and underwear, although he didn't put out a bra because he knew that wearing one would be almost unbearable for her.

He waited outside the closed door of the bedroom, leaning against the wall. He was worried that she wouldn't be able to get herself out of the tub. Ten minutes later he found his worry had been unfounded as he heard her moving into the bedroom, her footsteps slow but steady.

Parker stayed in the bathtub a few more minutes after Eliot's declaration of breakfast, but her stomach had decided that it was time to get out, no matter what the rest of her thought about that decision.

It took some doing, but she finally managed to maneuver her way out of the tub, and wrapped herself in a towel. She wasn't able to bend and dry herself, so simply made her way slowly into the bedroom and sat on the bed, waiting to dry off.

She managed to grab the clothes Eliot put out for her, and dressed slowly. "You can come in now, Eliot," she called, knowing he was waiting right outside the door.

Eliot entered the room, smiling to see Parker, her hair wet and hanging in clumps around her face, fully dressed on the bed. "Need some help with that?" he asked, pointing to her hair, and she shrugged, only to abort the gesture with a pained wince. Eliot just smiled as he slipped into the bathroom to grab a brush and a dry towel. He emerged and settled behind her on the bed, not missing the way she stiffened when he did so.

Parker stiffened when Eliot sat down behind her. She didn't like him being so close and not being able to see him; it was a position that in the past had always meant pain. She wanted to trust him, so desperately, but everything in her was telling her to get out. She pulled away slightly when he touched her shoulder, flinching away from him.

"Hey," he said softly, adopting the tone that he used with a young horse. "It's alright, Parker. It's fine, you're safe. I'm just gonna dry your hair and brush it out, alright?" He waited patiently until she nodded, then brought the towel up and began to carefully dry her hair, being sure to move in ways that wouldn't pull it. Once it was fairly dry, he took the brush, and as only someone with long hair could, started to gently tease the knots out.

He felt her slowly relax under his hands, and was careful to keep his movements slow and gentle, reminding himself again of the idea of a skittish horse. He rubbed a hand gently over her shoulder as she relaxed back against him, and ran the brush through her hair one more time before setting it down. "All done," he told her, clasping her shoulders gently and pressing a soft kiss against the back of her head before moving away, wanting her to know that she could trust him no matter where he was, that he would never hurt her. "Now, just let me re-wrap your ribs and we'll eat."

He grabbed a clean ace bandage from his kit and waited as Parker opened her hoodie, then started wrapping them firmly, examining the bruising as he did so. There was more of it today, deeper bruises having risen to the surface, and he skimmed them lightly with his fingertips, nodding slightly as he felt the swelling that was present. Not too much, but enough to really make her stiff. He strapped it without comment, then zipped the hoodie back up for her and brushed a soft kiss against her lips. "Let's have breakfast," he tugged her gently up, and led her into the living room.

Parker was once more confused by Eliot's actions as he seated her at the table, but this time she actually asked about it as he crossed to get the milk. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked over his shoulder as he grabbed the milk back out of the fridge.

"Pull my chair out and push it in," Parker told him.

Eliot turned to look at her full on, trying to gauge how serious she was with the question. Her expression was so frankly curious that he realized that she truly meant it exactly the way it came out; she didn't know why he pulled her chair out for her. 'Because it's the gentlemanly thing to do, and my momma taught me to be a gentleman," he replied softly, his accent thickening slightly as he crossed back over to her. "You pull your girl's chair out and you seat her at the table, you pour her drinks and stand up if she does. You open the doors and drive the car…that last one is sometimes a bit outdated, but mostly it works. Hasn't anyone ever done that stuff for you before?"

Parker just shook her head and grabbed the cereal, satisfied with his answer but still kind of confused by his behaviour.

Eliot, meanwhile, was once more rearranging his perspective. He'd thought the night before that he'd simply surprised her by proving that he was, in fact, a gentleman, but it seemed that he'd been mistaken; she didn't know what it was to be treated like a lady. He wondered suddenly if she'd ever actually been in a relationship before, and forced himself not to frown as he considered the idea.

He poured milk over her cereal and filled her glass with juice before sitting down and grabbing the box for himself. He took a mouthful of cereal, only to spit it out the next moment, a horrified expression on his face. "The milk's gone off…Parker! Don't eat that!" Eliot stared in horrified disgust as Parker took another mouthful of cereal. "You're gonna make yourself sick, the milk's bad!"

"I just thought maybe that was how it was supposed to taste when it was organic," Parker told him, putting her spoon down and taking a mouthful of juice.

Eliot forced himself not to laugh at her, or to say what was on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed his oft repeated phrase, and instead just shook his head. "It's not, trust me," he told her, picking up both bowls and dumping their contents, along with the rest of the milk, into his compost.

"I'm glad," she admitted. "That was at least as bad as yak milk."

"When did you…"

"Tibet. The 2002 Buddha heist," she told him, and his eyes widened appreciatively.

"Smooth. Alrighty then, I think we're gonna hafta go out if we actually want to eat, I'll check everything later and restock." He shrugged slightly, giving her an almost abashed look. "I haven't been here in about a week. Grab a jacket, we'll eat out."

Parker just nodded, not wanting to argue with him, and she really was hungry, and stood, finishing her juice quickly before setting the glass on the table. "Give me a minute," she told him, and limped into her room, where she quickly grabbed her jacket, then brushed her hair close around her face, trying to hide the bruises as much as possible.

"You ready to go, Parker?" Eliot came into the bathroom behind her and saw what she was trying to do. "Hey, you don't have anything to be ashamed of. You don't need to hide them, all they do is show that you survived." He smoothed a gentle hand down her back, but didn't go to move her hair for her, waiting to see how she would react.

"I'm not me when I can see them," she said, unsure how to make him understand. "I'm her, I'm the girl who couldn't save herself…who couldn't get away. Before I became me, became Parker."

"Hey, hey," Eliot soothed her when she couldn't keep going, her voice choking off. "It's okay, darlin', it's okay. I've got you," he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her gently against his chest and stroking her hair. "Parker, no matter what happens, the only person that can stop you from being you is you…that made more sense in my head, I think, but do you understand what I mean? The only way this guy can take that away from you is if you let him."

Parker nodded shakily against his still dry shirt. He wished she would let herself cry, but just held her, rubbing her back gently. "You ready to go? You'll feel better once you've eaten something," he reminded her, pulling away slightly to look down at her.

Parker just nodded, turning to leave the bathroom.

"Hey," Eliot said, catching her hand and turning her back towards him. "We don't have to go if you don't want to, this isn't just my decision here. If you want to stay in I can find somethin', darlin'. No pressure."

Parker frowned for a moment, then shook her head. "No. You're right; he's not going to steal me from myself. I'm a thief, I can steal anything, and I can't be stolen from. Let's go out."

Eliot grinned at her declaration, glad to see her stepping out to take control, and nodded. "Let's go then, Parker. After you." He gestured for her to precede him and followed her out of the bathroom and out to his truck.

He boosted her gently up into the cabin when she couldn't make it on her own, hands lingering on her hips as he smiled gently at her before making his way around to the driver's side.

"We'll go to Mary-Lou's, that's the local diner. She makes a cherry pie that you will not believe," he told her.

"Why not?" asked Parker, looking at him like he'd gone nuts. "If she makes it, why wouldn't I believe it?"

Eliot forced himself to keep his eyes open as he sighed. "It's a figure of speech, Parker. Never mind. It's not important. You'll like the pie, trust me." He turned out of the driveway as Parker looked at him, shaking her head slightly.

Eliot drove without talking, and Parker appreciated the silence, leaning her head back against the seat and staring out the window, looking at all of the white picket fence houses and forcing herself not to wonder what someone might be doing behind their beautiful brick walls.

Eliot watched Parker out of the corner of his eye and tried to figure out what she was thinking. Her face was completely blank as she stared out the window, offering no hints except to the fact that whatever it was upset her. "Parker? You alright?"

She started in her seat, turning to look at him. "Just…looks like a lot of places I stayed growing up," she told him, quirking one corner of her mouth up in an odd shrug.

Eliot just nodded, understanding. He turned a corner and pulled into a classic roadside diner. "Here we are. You'll love this place, I promise." He jumped out and came around to open her door for her, unable to keep from chuckling at the expression on her face as she looked down at him.

Parker opted to ignore Eliot's odd behaviour in favour of her empty stomach, and took his hand down out of the truck and allowed him to usher her into the diner and a small booth up the back where they could, sitting side by side, both put their backs to the wall and survey the entire place. It wasn't as romantic as sitting face to face, but there was romance and then there was peace of mind. Eliot put Parker between himself and the wall in order to give himself freedom to slip out of the booth if necessary and to place himself in a position to protect her.

A tall African-American woman in her sixties, her hair bone white and face seamed with smile lines, came to take their order. "Eliot Spencer, who is this and why have I not met her before?" she demanded in a thick Louisiana accent, hands on her hips as she beamed at them, and Eliot chuckled.

"Miz Mary-Lou, this is Parker. She's a friend from work and she's staying with me out at my place." He smiled charmingly at the woman.

"Just a friend, Eliot? I'm not blind, chile, or stupid, just old. Now, what can old Mary-Lou get the two of you today?"

"We'll take two big breakfasts and two slices of your cherry pie, just as soon as it's finished cookin'," Eliot told her, his accent thickening slightly.

"You got it, honey. Anything to drink?"

"Coffee, please," Parker piped up, and Eliot's eyes widened in horror.

"No!" he quickly said, shaking his head wildly. "No coffee. Hot chocolate. Cold chocolate. Milk. Herbal tea. But no coffee." He shuddered at the thought of a hyper, injured Parker cooped up in his house.

Mary-Lou swallowed a snort at Parker's pout, while Eliot just rolled his eyes. "Thems the breaks, darlin'. No coffee."

"Peppermint tea?" asked Parker, and Mary-Lou nodded. Parker smiled at the woman, then stuck out her tongue at Eliot.

"We'll take two, please, Miz Mary-Lou," Eliot told her, and the woman nodded.

"I'll be right back with those. Food'll be about ten minutes, and the pie has another half hour in the oven before it's ready to come out. I'll bring you some just as soon as its done." She turned to go back to the counter, yelling their order to someone in the kitchen.

Parker frowned at Eliot when he turned to her, but he just raised an eyebrow. "Coffee? Seriously? After what happened in the office?"

Parker grinned suddenly, her special 'I did something really crazy' grin as she remembered that day…and sighed when Mary-Lou put the peppermint tea down in front of them.

"Thank you, ma'am," Eliot charmed the diner owner, who slapped him lightly on the side of the head.

"Pay attention to your lady friend, Eliot Spencer, not me," she ordered, marching away.

Parker laughed at the expression on his face. "Why do you let her do that?" she asked, curious.

"When I moved in here, I met Miz Mary-Lou at the farm I told you about last night, the organic place. She virtually dragged me in here, sat me down and force fed me pie. Still don't know why, but I don't mind too much, 'cos it's damn good."

"He looked like a little lost boy who needed a momma," a decidedly amused voice informed them, and they glanced up to find Mary-Lou once more standing next to their table, this time holding two large plates. "Needed someone to make sure he slept, I know he can feed hisself but the boy is incapable of actually sleeping, I'm positive."

"And how on earth would you know that, Miz Mary-Lou?" asked Eliot, the teasing note back in his voice.

"I got the gift, boy, I got the gift," she replied, grinning and tapping a finger to her forehead. "My momma had it, my grandmomma had it, and her grandmomma…we just know." Eliot chuckled, and Parker giggled. "As for you, sweetie," Mary-Lou turned her gaze on Parker. "Oh, baby girl, so confused with the world. You take care of her," she ordered Eliot, who nodded. "Eat up, then."

They ate quietly, Eliot enjoying Parker's obvious pleasure in the food as she devoured it, mumbling happily. He found himself somewhat preoccupied by what Mary-Lou had said about her. The woman was scarily perceptive at times, just making small comments that gave Eliot a new insight into something he was worried about or pointing him in the direction of someone who needed help. He knew that Parker found so many things that people took for granted difficult, but to hear it come from someone whose opinion he had learned to value made it more obvious.

Parker finished her meal and sat back with a satisfied sight, but she was still turning over what Eliot had told her earlier in her mind. His momma taught him to be a gentleman…"What's your family like, Eliot? I mean, I know you have a nephew, but brothers? Sisters? Parents? What have you got?"

Eliot frowned slightly, wondering what had brought this on, and Parker immediately backpedaled. "You don't have to tell me, I was just curious. I mean, you mentioned your momma earlier and I was wondering, that's all."

"Parker, calm down. I'm not mad; I was just wondering why you'd asked. And since you already answered that question: I've got a twin brother, Jack, and a younger sister, Natalie. My sister's a teacher, widowed, she's the one with the son, and he's seven. My brother's in construction, he's married with a daughter, she's just about six months now. I've got some pictures at home, I'll show you later." He considered for a moment, but decided not to make this into an 'I showed you mine, you show me yours,' situation.

"Pie's ready," Mary-Lou appeared with a tray with two plates and a small bowl. "I got ya some of Walter's cream, too. Fresh this morning."

"Miz Mary-Lou, you read my mind," Eliot leaned back with a sigh. "Walter's cherries, too?"

"Of course. Where else would I get my cherries?"

"Walter heads the biggest organic co-op farm in the state," Eliot explained to Parker. "Just outside the suburbs. He and his partners employ a lot of people and produce everything that can be grown in this climate, in addition to milk and meat. He's a fixture of the community, there's not a single kid here who hasn't worked on his farm at least one summer, or so I'm told."

"It's a rite of passage," Mary-Lou said, resting one hip against the edge of the table as she balanced her tray against the other. "Kids sign up in the summer of their junior year at high school. There's a bus that picks 'em up every morning and drops 'em home every night, though the ones on milking sleep there. It's like a camp, only they work and learn to appreciate what they have and how to preserve it. They move around, spending several weeks in each area, then for the last month they choose the one they liked the most and go back to it. It's not all work; there's horse riding and bonfires, a lot of camp outs. Most of 'em sign up to go back the next year, and the next, and a lot of them go on to study agriculture because of Walter. It's a good thing. He's talking about doing an outreach and respite type program with foster care kids starting this year, not during the summer but over the other holiday periods, and maybe even for a 'semester on the farm' program. He's working on the details with the state care system."

"That sounds like a really good idea," agreed Eliot, glancing at Parker out of the corner of his eye. The shock on her face, not visible to anyone who doesn't know her really well, is easy to read.

"I've gotta go, my grandbaby's waiting for me to come home and spoil her rotten," Mary-Lou said, an indulgent smile covering her face. "I'll see you both soon, I trust. Take care now."

"Thank you, Miz Mary-Lou," Eliot told her, while Parker nodded and waved.

"And eat my pie before it gets cold!" the woman called scoldingly over her shoulder just before the door swung shut behind her.

Parker grabbed a plate and spoon, scooping some of the incredibly thick cream onto the plate before sampling the pie. It was still almost hot enough to burn, but she refused to allow that to detract from the flavour, which was intense.

"Oh…my…God…" she exclaimed when she'd finished her mouthful and turned to look at Eliot. "That is…that is…"

"I know. She won't tell me what she does to it, but she's promised to give me the recipe…in her will."

Parker laughed at that before returning her attention to the pie, Eliot following suit. He wanted to address the confusion and pain he'd seen on her face when Mary-Lou had brought up the foster program, but didn't think that that was really a conversation for a public place, or for right now when her emotions were so mixed up already.

They finished their pie and Eliot slid out of the booth, offering Parker a hand and not releasing hers once she was up, instead twining their fingers together as he headed for the front, where he paid the bill quickly. "Home, or do you want to come shopping with me?" he asked.

"Shopping," decided Parker after a moments thought. "If I go home, I'll just sleep again, and I'm not ready to sleep yet." She yawned, and Eliot looked at her out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow, but her face settled into determined lines. "Not yet."

"Okay then. Let's go shopping."

EPEPEPEPEPEPEP

Eliot got out of the truck with a sigh, then crossed around to Parker's side. Being careful to open her door as slowly and quietly as possible, he slipped his arms around her and lifted her out of the seat. She stirred and mumbled, but didn't wake, shifting closer to him and settling her head against his shoulder. Eliot was struck once more by the incredible feeling of being trusted by Parker; it was humbling, to say the least.

He carried her into the house and, after a moment's consideration, laid her on the couch before returning to the truck to bring in the bags. He unpacked them, folding the canvas bags neatly and putting them back in the truck. Parker had fallen asleep on the way back from the store, not surprising Eliot, who'd been waiting for her broken sleep, injuries and the drugs in her system to catch up with her. He knew Parker was frustrated with how much she was sleeping, and wondered if she'd ever been seriously injured in the past, to not be ready for this type of reaction.

He looked down at her as she slept on the couch, then knelt by her feet. He gently unlaced her converse trainers and slipped them off her feet, setting them next to the couch. That done, he slipped out of the room and came back carrying a black leather guitar case. He set it on the floor and opened it, settling in a chair as he tested the tuning, then started playing softly, fingers slipping smoothly from one chord to the next with the ease of familiarity. He didn't get to practice much, but when he'd admitted that he played to Parker she'd insisted on hearing him, and he was trying to get a bit of a warm up in before she woke up and demanded her concert.

He played softly for about half an hour, then when Parker showed no signs of waking, set the guitar aside and headed into the gym, leaving the door open so he could hear if she started to have a nightmare. He settled in to take out his frustrations on his punching bag, striking hard and fast against a nameless, faceless string of assailants who had taken Parker's childhood, and her ability to trust, away from her.


	5. Chapter 5

Eliot finished his workout an hour later, dripping sweat, muscles trembling and his rage temporarily blunted. He made his way into his room, grabbing a towel off the dresser, then into the bathroom to shower.

Parker woke with a start, cold sweat drenching her body, and shook her head quickly, attempting to dispel the remnants of the nightmare that still clung to her. She shivered as she pushed herself into a sitting position, and pulled the afghan up around her shoulders, huddling into the offered warmth and using a corner to wipe her face clean of sweat and possibly a few tears.

She took several cleansing breathes, as deep as she could with her ribs burning at the action, and attempted to lock the memories down once more. She couldn't fathom why it was so hard to do now; she'd done it successfully for years, since she'd fled her last foster home at fifteen after successfully fighting off her 'father' and him threatening her with far worse than what he'd done so far. She'd taken the broken girl that the system had created and forged her into something new, into someone no one could touch. She'd locked the little girl away behind a wall so high and thick that nothing was supposed to penetrate it, where she was supposed to be safe and untouched and leave 'Parker' to live the life she wasn't capable of.

Sure, she never forgot what had happened to her, still dreamed about it, but she had kept it at bay for so long. Then the team came along, and she started to learn what it really was to work alongside others for a common purpose, to care about others well-being as much as your own…what it was to have a family. And the wall had started to crack around the edges. The nightmares had become more vivid, and with them had come the fear that if she let the team get close, really close, they would end up hurting her. She knew now that that wasn't the case, but it was still hard to convince the scared little girl that she had actually found someone to trust.

She knew Eliot was right, that there was plenty that was 'wrong' with her, that she didn't know about the world and interacting with the people in it, that many of the things she took for granted were exceedingly unconventional, even if they didn't seem that way to her.

Feeling more centered, she pushed herself off the couch, her ribs throbbing as she shuffled across the room into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle off water. Rather than walk back to the couch, she eased herself onto one of the kitchen stools, opening her water and taking a sip, letting it slide down her throat and concentrating on the coolness as it hit her stomach and seemed to spread out from there. She took another sip and felt the concentration on the action help to center her thoughts. It would never match jumping off a building or cracking a safe, but it helped.

She heard Eliot's footsteps in the hall, but couldn't quite bring herself to turn her body to face him, the knowledge of the pain the movement would cause overruling the instinct to not let anyone, even someone she was learning to trust, come up behind her.

Eliot entered the room and saw Parker sitting on one of the bench stools, surprised when she didn't turn slightly to face him. It was one of her things, one of both of their things, actually, to not allow anyone to approach them from behind, because neither of them really trusted anyone else enough to allow them to do that. He slowed his footsteps slightly and made sure that he made plenty of noise, and stopped just behind her, settling his hands gently on her shoulders.

Parker started when he touched her, but found her body, without her permission, relaxing into the familiar embrace. That wasn't something that she could ever remember happening before, but she still found herself leaning back against him, and it felt…right.

"How are you feeling, Parker?" asked Eliot, smoothing a hand up and down her arm in a gentle gesture.

Parker wasn't quite sure how to reply. Emotionally, she had no idea where she was; beyond confused but happy and content at the same time. Physically, she was stiff and sore and still TIRED! And apparently she had waited too long to answer, because Eliot had circled around her and was leaning in close to her face, trying to get her attention.

"Parker? Talk to me, sweetheart. What's goin' on inside that crazy head of yours?"

"I…I don't know," she finally admitted, meeting his eyes as she bit her lip nervously.

"Just talk to me, Parker, tell me what you're feeling. I'm the first to admit that I'm not too good with emotions, but I'll do my best to help," he told her gently, brushing the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "Nothing you say is wrong, sweetheart, I promise."

"I'm so confused!" Parker burst out suddenly, flinging her arms out in a wide gesture. "It's all….argh!" she exclaimed in frustration, unable to verbalise what she was feeling. "I don't understand it, how am I supposed to talk about it?" she demanded, and Eliot had to concede that that was a good point.

"Do you want to call Sophie? Maybe you can talk to her?" he suggested, feeling rather helpless. He was doing his best to be supportive, but he was way outside of his comfort zone. Feelings were women's territory as far as he was concerned, well, women and Hardison, and that put the problem firmly in Sophie's lap.

"Yes, I think…I think that's a good idea," agreed Parker slowly. "I can talk to her."

Eliot tried not to feel hurt at that declaration, particularly since he was the one who suggested that she talk to Sophie, but it still stung that she couldn't talk to him about this. Still, he had an idea that talking to Parker about this would be a very long, very complex game of Question, and he didn't even know where to start.

"Well, you know where the phone is. I'm gonna make some sandwiches, so take your time, lunch will be ready whenever you are. Okay?"

Parker nodded, and standing stiffly, took the phone off the end of the bench and limped down the hallway to her room.

Elliot sighed, hoping that Sophie could help her work it out. He started rooting through the pantry for the ingredients he wanted for lunch.

EPEPEPEPEPEP

Parker lay on her back on the bed, unable to affect her preferred cross-legged pose. She looked at the phone in her hand, mulling over what Sophie had said, trying to get the pieces to fit into the broken puzzle that was her mind. They made sense, but the shape of them was still wrong, they wouldn't fit. Still, they had given her a clearer idea of where to go from where she was at the moment, which was something.

Basically, what it boiled down to was that her feelings were actually normal, in a way. She was falling in love, as Sophie had gently explained, and for someone who hadn't experienced love in any way in a very, very long time, her psyche didn't quite know how to deal with it. She felt the emotions, but couldn't identify them, reacted to things but didn't know why, and it was throwing her for a loop. Sophie's advice had been to take everything as it came, not rush into anything she wasn't ready for, but just to relax and go with it. She thought she could do that.

EPEPEPEPEPEP

Elliot was putting the finishing touches on a pair of reuben sandwiches in the kitchen when h is mobile rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at the display and answered it in a single smooth movement.

"Sophie," he said, dispensing with pleasantries.

"So help me, Elliot, if you hurt her, I will find a way to kill you. My hand to God. Understand?"

"If I hurt her, Sophie, I'll let you," he replied just as gravely.

"That's all I needed to hear. Take care of her, alright? And have her call me again soon."

"Will do, Sophie. Good luck." He hung up his mobile, then picked up the two plates and carried them around the bench to the breakfast bar, setting one in front of each stool. He got out Parker's pain meds and set them by her glass, then walked down the hall. He tapped gently on the door and waited for her reply, ready now to take everything as it came, however long it took.


End file.
